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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

“What?” Aoren stared down at the large black dog that was peering up at him inquisitively. Isikai’s head was quirked to the side with his ears perked up. He leaned forward nudging Aoren’s hand with his nose sniffing pointedly. Rolling his eyes the Drykas Seer brought up a piece of dried jerky extending it to the dog. Isikai happily gobbled it up eliciting a chuckle from Aoren. He rubbed the dog’s head gently thumbing an ear between his fingers before giving the dog a pat on his side.

“You act like I don’t feed you.” Isikai barked, his tail wagging happily. Contenting himself with petting his dog for the time being, Aoren went about watching his surroundings leisurely. It was a pleasant enough day as far as Riverfall went. People were going about their business as usual. The turmoil of the past few seasons was still evident across the region as far as Aoren knew. The absence of Winter, the rumors that circulated concerning the absurd turn of events surrounding the seasons, and the brutality that was being shown toward the Vantha people. Much of it did not sit well with Aoren. He abhorred the complete slaughter of an entire people because a god had abandoned her duties. When the proclamation had been made, he’d found the decree horrifying to say the least. His faith in many of the gods in that moment had been shattered.

Rak’keli had offered no guidance on the matter. So Aoren was living by the Oath that he’d sworn to her when she had marked him, to give healing to those in need of it no matter creed or origin. Avalis was no more vocal. To say that he was confused was an understatement and to see the zeal with which some had carried out the edict of the gods had been shocking. As a result, Aoren had not sought much interaction with people beyond those closest to him in quite some time. A whine from Isikai stirred him away from his thoughts. Aoren ruffled the dog’s fur. Leaning down he planted a kiss on Isikai’s head and hugged him before scratching his sides gently.

“We live in troubling times, boy. Very troubling times.” Slowing in his petting of the dog, Aoren looked down to the Lily that rest upon the back of his right hand. There were answers to the questions that were being asked. Answers that needed to be found if the world was going to be set right again. He felt, on no small level, compelled to find those answers if not for his own sake than for the sake of the people he cared for. But where did one even begin to look when it came to understanding the motives of a deity? As he was mulling over these thoughts, a string of curses pulled him from his musings and toward a small building not but a few yards away from him. There stood a woman who appeared to be having some trouble with various packages arrayed on the ground in front of her. Others were walking by with only a few curious glances in the woman’s direction. Rising to his feet, Aoren slung his pack over his shoulder. He jerked his head in the direction of the woman as he spoke to Isikai.

“Come on.” Making his way over to her, Aoren came to a stop just a few feet away. Not being the most adept at stealth he could only assume she heard him approach. Regardless he cleared his throat pointedly in an attempt to draw her attention.

“Excuse me, uh, do you need some help?” Isikai padded forward sniffing at the ground until he found himself just a few inches in front of Aoren. The dog lifted his head and peered at the woman curiously.

There was a list circulating through her head as she walked, brow furrowed in concentration. Goods jangled about her person, each step carefully measured as she weaved her way through. Her gaze could barely peer around the crates she carried, packed with straw but the contents occasionally glinting in the light. Her own pack was on her back, over laden with goods – enough that she could feel the straps digging into her shoulders. Her back strained, stubbornness pushing her forward. The last store she went to offered to have one of the Akalak help her, but she had declined. As far as she was concerned she could do it herself, she had to make herself on equal footing on a city full of men.

At least, that’s what she told herself. Much like she was telling herself this was a terrible idea and that she most certainly regretted her current life choice. Gloved hands continued to grip around the corners of the crates, feeling them dig into her palms. Her belt of tools, equally weighed down with the quantity that hung from there. Kukri in its scabbard, the notebook in one of the larger pouches. The entire piece made her feel lopsided no matter how she moved.

Her arms gave a tremble, straining under the weight, a quiet mantra of the list being uttered under her breath, ”Paper. Ink. Quills. Cups. Pitcher. Paper. Candles. Notebook. Maps. Alcohol… yes…” there was a small, quiet hum of satisfaction then, before she continued on through her list, ”Lock. Key. Lockbox. Wax. Stones…” there was a small glance back to ensure nothing was dragging behind on the pack, her black cloak being bundled up at the base of it. It was far from the time of year for such things, but never the less she wanted to keep something like that close. It was important. There was a quick sidestep as she managed to avoid another pedestrian, contents wobbling and sending her attention forward once more. A foolish mistake.

Something ripped, the sound of thread tearing. With it she felt the entire pack become lopsided, dragging her over to the right. She managed to steal a glance upon the flapping bag strap, the sound of the other one going foricng her into a stop. Too late however, it landed as a heap upon the floor. She spun on her heel, a little too harshly. It took a quick hand to stop the top from falling off and spilling the contents across the floor. Sighing she lowered the crates and looked back to the remains of the pack itself.

”Ohhhhhh… petchshykevagikpetchingshykeballs. Petch,” her hands quickly dragged it over to assess the damage. The cloak was fine apart from some dirt, but that would wash out. It was the rest of the contents she now worried about. One by one she went through it, rummaging and pulling out pieces for her to inspect. So what for the strange looks the locals were giving her, she had other things to worry about. She paused at one of the pouches inside, feeling the shape of fangs within. A low sigh, a gentle squeeze, her mind flickered briefly to her past companions. She shoved the thought down, abruptly pushing it aside as she jammed the pouch into a pocket. Scratching at her head, she stood. Sigh escaping, brow furrowed.

”How the petch am I going to shift this?” her lips pursed into a line. She had not really paid too much attention to the approach of the stranger, she presumed it would be another passerby looking at her with a quizzical expression. The snuffling however gave her pause. Eyes slid to the corner, moving down to the dog by the stranger’s feet, a slow blink as she tried to register the words he actually said.

Dog. Her nose twitched, fingers wriggling. Even her lips gave a small, tugging up into a curl. It’s a dog. Another blink, she contemplated reaching out to pet it but chose to hold back. It did not stop the look of once focus sweeping aside for a softer expression. A small slither of white, shoulders relaxed, before the rolling, lilting voice escaped, ”Well, hello there cutie!”

And then Fallon realised what she said. She went rigid for a moment, head lifting and the sensation of burning beginning to prickle its way in. She looked to the man alongside who towered above. A small swallow, barely able to make eye contact. He had asked something, the expectant look upon his face told her that much. Without missing a beat she forced the words out, ”And hello to you too! Help?” She forced her mind into action despite the momentary jarring, ”Yes. Yes… that would be much appreciated. I need to get this up to the SWI office. Investigation agency place,” she waved the words aside, ”Bane of getting too much stuff at once. Knew I should have done two trips.” Her gaze moved down to the dog once more, a forceful clearing of the threat as she attempted to regain some composure, ”Nice dog.”

Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."

In the whole of his life, Aoren could only think of one other person who swore both to that degree and with such…intensity. It caught him off guard to hear it coming from the young woman in front of him to the point where an awkward smile crept up at the corners of his mouth. He blinked at her, not that she noticed. She seemed preoccupied with sorting through the mess that was in front of her. He was just about to clear his throat in an attempt to get her attention once more when she looked up with an exclamation that again, surprised him.

“Uh…” It took a moment to register the fact that she was speaking to his dog. The tension that had embedded itself into Aoren’s shoulders after the comment eased away and he relaxed a bit. “Yes, I asked if you needed help.”

For the briefest of moments, Aoren considered just walking away. That would have been rude however given that he’d just extended his offer to help and confirmed it after her question. Following her stream of words he turned his head in the direction she waved but he didn’t see the office in question. The mention of an investigation service grabbed his attention though. Arching an eyebrow he appraised the woman carefully. She was not dressed for the season, that much was evident. The gloves and cloak were a curious choice of attire and were a stark contrast to the light cotton clothing that Aoren himself wore. She was armed, the sheathed blade at her hip didn’t escape his notice. By her bearing it told him that she was comfortable with its use. Kneeling down, Aoren began helping to pick up the things that the woman had dropped onto the ground. He followed her direction as far as items went accepting what she allowed him to pick up and gathering it all in his arms.

“SWI? Investigation agency?” Speaking his thoughts aloud, Aoren’s face adopted a puzzled expression as he mulled over his thoughts. “It…uh…maybe you can help me. That is, if you’re taking customers?”

Rising to his feet, Aoren nudged Isikai aside with his leg gently. The dog sniffed at the things in his arms curiously but meandered over to the woman when it was clear Aoren wasn’t going to let him inspect the items. Isikai inspected the woman a bit more closely. He didn’t jump at her, his movements were measured with an obvious curiosity in his attentive gaze. With a nudge to one of her hands, Isikai gave a light nuzzle before walking back over to Aoren. The Drykas smiled at his dog.

“His name is Isikai. He’s been by my side for some time now.” Shifting some of the goods in his arms around, he extended a hand a bit awkwardly so as not to drop any of the woman’s belongings. “And my name is Aoren.”

Fallon’s skin was still flush with colour, a healthy pink hue having crept in over the passing ticks. It was an odd sensation of being on the mental back foot, mind racing back and forth to establish some form of control in the situation. The eyes swum, moving rapidly in an attempt to pick out anything remotely insightful.

Blue eyes. Very blue. Seems scarless. Unblemished skin, her own scars gave a reminding prickle of discomfort, a niggling reminder they existed, Accent is… Syliran? Perhaps? It is diluted. Her lip gave a small curl, weighing him up in her mind as she considered him and began regaining some composure. A vigorous nod of consent, she began sorting through the things and splitting them up as necessary. By the end of it, this Aoren as he had introduced himself was loaded up with the crate. Awkwardly she shook his hand back, noting the strength in grip – she held no doubt he could probably crush it if he chose to.

”Fallon. Or Inspector Skylar when working,” she chose not to put on her business face, it was unnecessary in this instance. She managed to bundle her backpack under one arm, brushing off the light dusting of dirt that had accumulated there. There was a pause however when the giant dog meander over. It was one that certainly matched the owner, she was certain it could barrel her over whenever it chose to. Her lips gave a small curl, a once pleased buzz flickering and falling. Her hand gingerly reached out, letting him sniff before giving a gentle pat back, ”Hello Isikai. And really? Companions are good to have. Used to have a dog myself.”

With a small incline of the head Fallon gestured for him to follow, ”SWI. Scarred Wolf Investigation. Second tier. Up the steps, left, right, another set of steps. Into the cliff side and follow it along. Suvan side. I think following may be easier. And I do accept customers, though I admit I am presently… well. Settling in the city. Only been around… a handful of days. Though, you probably guessed the foreigner bit. Sticking out like a sore thumb.” Fallon was comfortable with words, ”I digress. My services are available, though it depends on what it is you need help with. It’ll all be treated in confidence of course. I value my clients comfort.”

There was something uncomfortable about talking about herself, but Fallon did it anyway. It was necessary in this instance, more so if there was the potential for work. Down one of the narrower streets, she began the process of leading up into the next tier. She had a rough sense of direction, but that would only improve with time. Adjusting her grip on the bag she gave a glance back to Aoren, ”I can’t decide on your accent. Where are you from? I mean. You have a bit of the local feel but…” She shrugged, ”I can’t work it out. I mean, forgive the prying of the curious.”

Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."

“Well then Inspector, it is nice to meet you.” With a small smile on his face he watched as Isikai got a bit more familiar with Fallon. He would have pat the dog on the head but he didn’t want to risk dropping any of the items that were now piled up in his arms. Shaking the inspector’s hand had been risky enough as it was. Adjusting his hold on the items, Aoren let his gaze follow where Fallon was pointing. He had a vague idea of where she would be directing him but following her to her office was certainly the soundest course of action.

“I think I’ll just follow along.” He gave a light chuckle and shifted the items in his arms before stepping off. He kept his pace a bit slower than normal so as to accommodate for the stride of his newfound companion.

“Most people start out foreign to Riverfall. In the relatively short time that I’ve lived here, it’s been easy to see that the Akalak go to great lengths to make their city feel like home to most travelers. They sort of need to.” Aoren was no stranger to the reality that the Akalak walked the precarious line of dying out. While their numbers weren’t exactly threatened for the moment, childbirth among their people wasn’t exactly stellar. While he certainly wasn’t the gender that the men desired he had proven himself as an able-bodied addition to the city’s denizens. Side-stepping a group of workers, Aoren hung back for a moment to allow them to pass before catching up to Fallon.

“If you stay here for very long, you’ll find that you don’t stick out as bad as you might think you do.” He could remember his first days in the city. Fortunately for him, he’d known Caelum from a previous encounter as a teenager. While he hadn’t expected to find the Ethaefal in Riverfall, found him he had. There were many happy and bitter moments since that unexpected reunion but Aoren didn’t dwell on those thoughts.

“If your services are available, then I would be interested in hiring you for a small job. That business though is perhaps better discussed in your office.” Aoren left it at that. While what he had in mind wouldn’t require absolute secrecy, he felt it best to save the details for a more private setting. As they walked he took the time to observe the woman beside him. Shorter than himself with sandy hair but an overall serious demeanor, Aoren got the distinct impression that Fallon was a woman of decisive action. Beyond that he couldn’t glean much else simply by staring at her. Well, that wasn’t entirely true but he decided against prying into the privacy of her aura unless he felt the need to.

“I was born among the Horseclans of the Drykas but I was raised in Syliras. It’s been a few years since I’ve lived there though. I’ve been traveling for a bit. The Fortress City was home for as long as it needed to be until it wasn’t home anymore.” He didn’t find the question odd in the least. If the woman was an investigator then it was only natural she would be curious about details. Aoren could only assume it helped answer some question in her mind.

“What about yourself? I’d place you from somewhere in the Sylira region, if I had to take a guess.” It was a broad guess considering the cities that were the vast region but it at least gave a starting point. Aoren never really found himself concerned with where people came from. He was always more interested in where they were going. Most people he’d found weren’t all that forthcoming with the details of who they were but truthfully, if he wanted to know more, all he had to do was find a quiet place and meditate.

Fallon continued to lead the way, only taking pause to gather her bearings and ensure she was on the right track. The rest of the time was the ever moving and adjusting of grip, cautious steps around the other pedestrians. Occasionally she would stop to announce herself loudly, causing a few mumbles of appology from those in her path. For the most part however she was left to it and able to mind her own business. Goods jostling loudly, she found the steps leading to the second tier and begun her hike along them.

"This way," she called back to Aoren, "And I suppose you're right there. Make the place attractive and they will come, so on and so forth. Takes a lot to bring people in, takes a lot more to keep some semblence of order and not have the city become diluted from its origins." She gave a nod in gestures, "Look at the culture, the atmosphere, it is a far cry from the other cities - the human ones." She frowned, reaching one of the main streets within the tier. She gave a small turn of the head, gaining her bearings, "I have no doubt in that. Of course, I would have to stay here long enough. Have reason. So forth."

The inspector did not dwell on the thought for too long. She had chosen Riverfall for a new start, to discard the ties of the past and begin relatively affresh. It hurt, emotionally at least - but there was nothing keeping her to stay in Zeltiva beyond a job and an empty house. No, better to fill her life with colour and taste instead of withering away in some dark, forgotten corner of the world.

"Then we can discuss while in a more private setting at your leisure," her tone was matter of fact, there was no point dwelling on such so soon or climbing in too deep. At one of the junctions she took a pause, lowering her pack, "One tick. Not used to being so overloaded." A few rotations of the shoulder, she gave a point to the next turning, "Right at that point. You're a pleasure for helping. I think my arms or back may have given out before this point." An unpleasant click, she released a puff of air before taking up her load once more.

"Drykas, eh? Drykan? Drykai? What is the correct term?" she questioned as she continued down the street, "I mean, in Zeltiva you're a Zeltivian. Syliras a Syliran. Sunberth a Berther... you get the idea. And the stone coffin of Syliras was your home?" She gave him a look up and down, followed by a snort, "I take it living in a box did not suit you then? No surprise if you've got horse blood in you."

She gave a chuckle to his questioning, "Careful. You'll take me out of a job. I am... well." She paused, brow creasing into a line, "I am not too sure. People remember me in Sunberth. But I was too young to keep onto such memories. I remember Syliras, all be it briefly..." A purse of lips, she took the right and then the narrow set of steps leading up into the cliffside once more, "I don't really come from anywhere. Too much travelling. Too much of a mentor with itchy feet. All over the place. Though, admittedly, this is the first time I have come south of the Syliran border."

Heaving breaths, she reached the top of the steps. Her mind was lurching, body complaining, and few strong curses escaped with every grunt. In short, she really needed to get physically fitter; having a comparatively lax lifestyle in Zeltiva and while travelling did nothing to improve that. Stepping out onto a quiet pedestrian street, she hopped across the way and spied her office door. Quick steps, she sidled up next to it and lowered her pack. Fingers fumbling for the key, she unlocked it - briefly spying the recent addition of the door head knocker - before opening it.

A sigh of relief, she gestured inwards, "If you could leave the load inside the door, I can sort it out in a bit. I think... I think, I need to catch my breath for a moment. Gods. Stairs." She dropped her pack at the foot of her desk, before leaning up against it, "Still. Welcome to the Scarred Wolf Investigations. Please. Make yourself comfortable. Or something..." she spied her waterskin on her pack and quickly removed it, firstly offering it to him, "Thirsty? Though, probably a little lukewarm now."

Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."